


The American Dream

by randomhouses



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, M/M, Somewhat insincere 80s nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23396887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomhouses/pseuds/randomhouses
Summary: A terrifying peek into the psyche of a real American MAN and PATRIOT.
Relationships: John Casey/Ronald Reagan?
Kudos: 2





	The American Dream

John Casey had the same dream again. It was the summer of '81, that glorious year when the future seemed so bright. Carter had gone down in flames at the hands of Iranians, Pinochet was at the height of his power, showing the world what a good beat down on hippies could accomplish, and Casey spent the entire spring jerking off to fantasies of Margaret Thatcher and newly-inaugurated POTUS Ronald Reagan making hot, passionate love in order to create iron soldier babies that would march into the Soviet Union and put Stalin's corpse on a spit so they could make him turn in his grave for all eternity.

That was also the summer Diana married Charles. He loved her dress so much he didn't even mind the train that was just begging for an assassin to take advantage of it. _He_ certainly wouldn't have minded taking advantage of it.

August third, the damn commie air traffic controllers went on strike. In his dream, Reagan never got a chance to fire them. Casey, the adult, present-day, NSA-trained killer version of himself, got to them first. Most of them never saw him coming. He let them live just long enough for fear to freeze their hearts as they took in the beheaded corpses of their union comrades, blood spewing in fountains from their stubby necks.

At the end of the slaughter, he stood atop a mound of bodies stacked four stories high, communist blood dripping from his entire body, the handles of his two katanas slick in his grip. The news media arrived as he stepped off the last, squishy spleen in his descent to the airport tarmac.

"That's what _I_ call a Red Scare," he told the cameras. "Heh."

But it was what happened next that remained seared in his memory the next morning. _Ronald Reagan himself_ came to his house to thank him for his patriotism. He came by himself, proving he wasn't motivated by a photo op. Just his overwhelming gratitude for John Casey's actions. "You're a true American, kiddo," he said with a California cowboy drawl.

"Thank you, _sir_!" Casey saluted.

"At ease. This is a fine place you got here."

"Yes, _sir_! Would you like some coffee, _sir_?" He moved out of the doorway as President Reagan _stepped across the threshold into his house_. Casey imagined this must have been what Princess Diana felt like in her wedding dress.

"Those are some fantastic bonsais you got there," Reagan said. Casey's heart fluttered, and his mouth was dry. He didn't know what to say. "Say, kiddo, you here alone?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Reagan kicked the front door shut and grabbed Casey's shoulders with more agility, speed, and strength than was reasonable to expect from a seventy-year-old. True, Reagan was a stunning specimen of a man, but even so....

Reagan pulled him close and kissed him. All thoughts flew out of Casey's mind.

And then he woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written to be part of a massive, sprawling, ridiculous crossover fic that has since been abandoned. Since it was already written and for some reason amuses me, I posted it.


End file.
